


The Bodyguard

by miumiuchuu



Category: RWBY
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Earth, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bodyguard Romance, Bombing, Death, Death Threats, Dismemberment, F/M, Gen, M/M, More characters to be added, Other, Qrow is not a Kevin Costner in this one, Terrorism, disturbing fan letters, ironwitch is the background couple who fret over Ozpin, ozpin is a mix of Josh Groban and Andrea Bocelli, set in an ambiguously north american city
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-25
Updated: 2019-03-05
Packaged: 2019-11-05 16:22:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,261
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17922233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/miumiuchuu/pseuds/miumiuchuu
Summary: I don't know what to title this. I'm very sorry. It doesn't end like the Whitney Houston movie, I promise. Ozqrow is definitely end game and gets happy ending.Ever since Ozpin hauled to become a pop-tenor from his opera career, more people began to know his talent and he certainly gained more love from the general public. But with popularity, came consequences and it had been a year and a half terror came his way instead.





	1. It Happened Again

Lights flashed, applause in unison like seawaves, Ozpin could feel his sweat trickling down his temple.

La Traviata’s “De’ Miei Bollenti Spiriti” was especially chosen by Ozpin for the night. It was a spring charity concert held by some of the local non-govermental organizations. The event coordinator gave Ozpin liberty to choose the songs for the guests and he was pleased — even though he doubt the guests knew every single song — with the list he had chosen, as well as his performance. He personally picked songs of the joyous or romantic kind, English classics and opera standards, 5 in total. He thought he needed to make an impression with a curated set of songs.

The applause continued as he took one last bow before walking backstage.

“Good work out there, boss,” Glynda Goodwitch, his manager stood before the backstage entry way, hands crossed, face expressionless. Ozpin wondered did she really stood there during the whole performance with those sharp, thin, high heels of hers but that woman can endure anything. It’s scary. Beside her, the intern, Velvet Scarlatina handed him a bottle of water, a small towel and his trusted cane. Velvet wore a much more sensible pair of flats.

“I still find it weird when you call me boss,” Ozpin returned. The two walk down the passage back to his dressing room, “so, next performance, tomorrow, if I’m not wrong.”

“Yes, the private dinner party for local Citibank chairman card members. Venue check in, 4 PM sharp.”

“Alright,” Ozpin wrapped his hand clean once more before handing the towel back to Velvet.

A stage crew opened the dressing room for them. As usual it had been filled with souvenirs, thank you cards, flowers and all other sort of packages, presumably from the more important guests at the performance. Ozpin sat right on his vanity, checking out senders from the flower bouquets, noticing names he was familiar before. He asked Velvet to put some of his things that were scattered on the table back to his bag. The girl diligently nodded and got to work.

Ozpin scanned the room wondering what could he brought back to his house. As his eyes went through envelopes and packages that were on the edge of his table, one shimmering pink box with a thin gold ribbon caught his eye. Hopefully a sweet treat, that would be nice. He received a diamond embellished Cartier watch in a similar sized box once and it was admittedly awkward but he did have a lot of fans of the unimaginably prosperous kind.

Ozpin took the box, no cards attached. He opened it but it wasn’t any of what he hoped for.

His automatic gesture of closing back the lid, shoving it away, as well as his jolting shoulders alerted Velvet.

“Mr. Ozpin, is something wrong?”

Velvet’s question prompted Glynda to put her tablet down and walked to Ozpin’s side. He didn’t want Glynda to see it but she already had. Her face turned slightly pale. She closed the box down.

It happened again.

Glynda walked out of the dressing room. Ozpin prayed on his goddamn life she wouldn’t yell to the crew who was in charge of his room. She didn’t thankfully. The crew member got in and Glynda started to question him.

“Who’s in charge for these fan packages?” Her tone slightly high.

“I— I’m not sure… I was just told to watch the room. I think it’s the front of house? They're usually the ones who are in contact with fans and guests. I-is something wrong?”

“Really wrong, Ozpin just received a package containing a dismembered finger.”

The crew boy gaped his mouth, body slightly shaken but he gathered himself quickly and acted, “I’ll go get front of house.”

Glynda sighed before pulling out her phone from her purse. The number tone sounded 911. She reported in behalf of Ozpin that he had yet received another unwanted mail. After she gave the operator full disclosure about what happened, she ended the call and dialled another number. It took some time for her to get connected. Ozpin assumed she was calling James Ironwood, his lawyer.

“Ugh, pick it up you big goop!” Glynda groaned in frustration.

By the time front of house arrived with the crew boy, Glynda still couldn’t get to James.

“He’s still on the papers about the violation of fair use that homophobic senator did to my track, right? Didn’t the papers just come today?” Ozpin attempted to calm her down. Didn’t seem to affect much.

“Yeah, but this is just as important! Gah, I really don’t wanna discuss this at home!”

Understandable. Ozpin could only sighed. He looked at the box in front of him again and decided he should just move to the couch across the room.

 

* * *

 

It took them some time as the police went through everything. Every single gift Ozpin received that night was bagged as evidence. DNA test confirmed it was an actual human index finger although it would take some time to find out who it belonged to. There was a letter folded along with the finger, a photocopy of magazine cutouts that read, “NOW WE CAN TOUCH FOREVER”. The vivid image was now haunting Ozpin’s head.

The detectives were still questioning people from front of house but Glynda saw a flock of reporters started to come in. She requested to the detectives if they could leave as they have finished the interviews. She told them to contact her if anything happens.

The sight of police officers sparked worry in Yatsuhashi’s face as they escorted Ozpin outside. He had been Ozpin’s limo driver since Fall last year but the boy really cared for his boss’ well being knowing he had been receiving various forms of terrors. Yatsuhashi closed all the blinds inside the limo before he let Ozpin, Glynda and Velvet in. Glynda and Velvet took the side while Ozpin sat on the back on his own. Dreaded silence weighed the whole trip back to his estate. Glynda didn’t even review Velvet’s performance or brief her with future schedules. Poor Velvet. This was only her first week. Velvet left her home in Australia for college and she just graduated a few months ago. She seemed eager to work at the agency and had been taking her job rather seriously, bearing with Glynda’s strictness and no nonsense behaviour all the time and past interns _hate_ Glynda. This was the first time Ozpin saw Velvet this exhausted — afraid; eyebrows knit, legs shut, hands stayed on her lap. A secondhand guilt washed over Ozpin. Velvet surely didn’t deserve this.

Glynda didn’t show much change in her body language, however, Ozpin could tell from her face alone she was infuriated. She took off her glasses the whole ride, legs and arms crossed. At times, Ozpin could catch her tapping her fingers.

After until just a few blocks away from his estate, Glynda finally cracked the silence.

“You know what, maybe I should stay with you for the night,” she sounded displeased. “I could take the living room. I would know if anyone tries to break in.”

Ozpin was about to cut but she continued, “James hadn’t call back. I could just drop him a message. Apparently, he’s still busy with that violation of fair use thing. Claims like this probably occupy him ‘til midnight.”

“Glynda, I appreciate your concerns, but I’ll be fine.”

Ozpin knew Glynda too well to understand her response without her having to say anything and it was; _‘Fine’, my ass_.

“Ozpin, somebody— I’m sorry to put it this way but somebody _literally_ gave you a finger. Used panties, used tampons and now they think they have no more use of their finger — IF that is their finger and just straight sent it to you. God, what else could this person do to you!?”

There might be a point but a huge sense of denial prevented Ozpin to take Glynda’s offer. He really wanted to forget about all this.

“Glynda, if anything I need some down time. Alone.”

“With your safety at stake?”

“I have my cane.”

Glynda rolled her eyes and made a clear groan, “You and your uncanny attachment to your cane. Ozpin, you need help.”

“I swear, I’ll be fine,” Ozpin smiled.

_Keep positive, deny them, they will stop. Friends wouldn’t have to worry._

Glynda sighed. Hands up in the air, “Okay, suit yourself. I’m just trying to prevent you from getting murdered. Or worse.”

Ozpin wondered what Glynda meant by “worse”.

They finally arrived at his estate. Velvet carried several of his stuff back inside, Glynda reminded him of the run for the Citibank show. After everything was set, Glynda was ready to head home, but not before she insisted the whole situation about the unwanted packages once more.

“Yes, I’ll call you or James if there is anything,” Ozpin answered confidently.

Ozpin locked the doors and closed the blinders as he watched the limo drove away.

Velvet was told to just leave Ozpin’s bag near the couch but he didn’t even intend to carry it upstairs. He didn’t even intent to go upstairs. Glynda’s suggestion about the living room made very much sense. He took off his coat, not bothering to put it properly on the couch, untangled his bowtie and walked to his marble paved open kitchen. He could use a drink. Any of the 40% variety seemed out of the question. He couldn’t afford something that would rendered him too drunk. Wine then? Red? White? Australian Chardonnay? Chablis?

_Ah, what’s the difference?_

Ozpin wasn’t the type who is careless about picking his wine, but his thoughts never jumped so fast from one thing to another, he couldn’t even give room to think about wine. All the memories he was picking were of the threats, anonymous letters of the perverted nature he received since early last year. It started so innocently with a writing that seemed to be girly looking, detailing how his voice changed the sender’s life. A textbook fan-letter. Then the sender started to detail about how she was bullied, her body issues, her brother who did not care for her — personal things and as much as Ozpin wanted to respond, the letter remained anonymous.

After a while, the letters became much more amorous. First, three pages long of a dream date. The pages kept doubling after that. One detailed how wonderful it would be if he could take her first. Subsequent letters got raunchier, more bizarre, _more terrifying_. Things Ozpin preferred to not recall.

Ozpin tried to deny this, if it means to bore the sender to stop. Ozpin being so reserved in nature refused to tell anyone initially, not even to his lawyer and manager and they’re the closest thing he had as best friends. James and Glynda found out eventually. James was rather displeased to hear Ozpin had burnt some of the more disturbing letters. Ozpin argued perhaps it was just a confused person who projected to him, a celebrity. It happens all the time. James didn’t take the argument too well; it could be evidence if things got out of hand. Glynda agreed with Ozpin but suggested that should it happen again, they keep the letters for evidence.

They warned the whole agency about the incidents. James did a thorough check to any talents under the agency who received letters, or even tweets and comments on social media of the same flavour. Nobody had it as specific and personal as Ozpin did. Talents’ protection of privacy increased, but Ozpin’s safety was still a primary concern since he was their highest selling, internationally renowned talent and he was the only one that was targeted with the most menacing mails.

Soon, it was no longer just letters. Packages containing hair cut, nail clippings, used panties and tampons were sent. Magazine cutouts that read “I KNOW YOU BURNED THEM”, “DO NOT IGNORE ME”, and “I WILL COME FOR YOU” slipped among other gifts from fans. At that point, everybody on the agency had known about the letters. The magazine clippings could come from anyone. James had no choice but to contact authorities and suggested a protection detail, which Ozpin refused.

The day detectives came and asked him questions was probably one of the worst days of his life. Glynda protested James that going to the police might invoke unwanted attention because the media had been sniffing rumors about the letters, even wrote downright slander. James insisted it was for Ozpin’s safety, the slanders can’t be proven and if anything happens he is Ozpin’s lawyer, he would defend Ozpin at all cost. They didn’t talk for a few days.

Stressful times prompted Ozpin to doubt James and Glynda but then, he snapped, felt awful after, how could he doubt the very people who care for him most, even outside of work? How many times have James and Glynda offered him to stay with them nights after he received the mails? How could he put strain on their relationship because of his sake? If anything they became much more overprotective towards him. They argued much more often at work because of it too. It wasn’t a rare occasion that he sat at the office’s little meeting room, watching them going head to head about the issue. Ozpin never knew that lonely kid watching their parents fight on late night drama could be somewhat relatable, oddly at the age of 35.

Glynda was usually on his side — the idea of 24 hours of protection sounded extra, her word. She used to work with Ozpin back in his amateur troupe days as a pianist before deciding she was better at managing talents. Glynda knew about how much Ozpin values boundaries and privacy. That was the reason why he personally asked her to become his manager as well. She told people, fans or press to back off if necessary before he needed to. Surely a 24 hour scrutiny will make him most uncomfortable but after a while, she began to side with James’ idea of a private security.

They had all the rights to worry about him but Ozpin wasn’t sure of himself — he wished he doesn’t have to involve people in this but now he probably had to.

A sound of flapping birds near the tree outside his window startled Ozpin. He was back to reality. He hurriedly check if it was really a bird. Of course it was. Nobody was there. The sound was clear. Humans couldn’t make such sounds.

_Could they?_

He realised he was out of wine and had picked a very cheap Rosé he bought yesterday for a deal at a supermarket among other things. It tasted like nothing but sugar.

He couldn’t care less. The moment he returned to the couch, his eyes were already heavy. Still doubting on what should or would happen, he slowly drifted to sleep.


	2. Loud Honks and Explosion

It had been a while since Opzin attain such peace. Just him, sitting by the pond, in his favourite plaid moss green three piece suit with his cane beside him. Such dapper man in such dapper garden. The sun was bright with a hint of warmth. The skies were blue. In his hands was a bag of crumbs he fed to the ducks, swimming so calmly in a circling motion.

The ducks swam towards him, their fluffy tails wiggle left to right. Every time Ozpin fed them, they honk.

More ducks were coming, the honk turned into chorus. Ozpin harmonised with the ducks. What a grand orchestra! If Saint-Saëns were alive, he would add another number inspired from the song Ozpin had created to his “Les Carnaval des Animaux”. We have the swan, why not the ducks? Finally a segment with vocals. Louder, so the honks went. Before he realised, Ozpin was out of crumbs. The ducks kept honking and the chorus went out of harmony. More honks, louder honks. Ozpin started to lose where his duck song was going.

Honk. Honk. Honk.

The honk didn’t stop, Ozpin opened his eyes. The ducks were gone, only a blurry vision of what seemed to be a wine glass and an almost empty clear bottle. He rubbed his eyes and he could still hear the honks. Ozpin wasn’t in a pond. He was in his living room and where the heck— _what the heck_ was that honk?

Ozpin got up from his couch and took a peek out from his window. The honks seemed to come from outside. It was his work limo, parked in front of his gate. Showing up at, eyes squinting at his watch, 7 AM. He didn’t remember about a 7 AM entry on the schedule. Glynda wasn’t the type who get schedules wrong or does an impromptu activity. She carefully planned every single thing.

Not today apparently. As Ozpin hit the button to his voice connector, he heard Glynda from the other side.

“Ozpin, it’s me. Open the gate.”

With a click of a button, the gates opened automatically. Black limo arrived exactly in front of his porch.

Ozpin unlocked the front door, tuxedo still ruffled, white hair a mess, eyes puffed due to exhaustion. Glynda, in contrast, already sharply dressed as usual; form-fitting black and white sheath dress, wavy blonde hair in perfect bun, sheen lipstick, highlighter that could blind a man. Louboutin heels clicking so crisply as she stepped in, Ozpin was sure she could break his mahogany floor.

“Get yourself ready, we’re going on a meeting at the office.”

“Meeting?”

“About your drastic need for a security detail. Hurry up. James is already heading there.”

Of course, so this is what it’s about.

“Can I have my hot co—“

“I have Velvet prepared that for you.”

Ozpin groggily walked upstairs to his en suite bathroom. As he climbed, he saw Glynda reacting to the mess he was in last night. Her head tilted, hands at her hips. He deserved a long morning lecture from Glynda.

 

* * *

 

The expected lecture didn’t occur. Glynda sat in silence, so did Velvet. Yatsuhashi didn’t even make small talk to any of them. Somehow the atmosphere from last night stayed. Then again, it was early in the morning. The memory was still fresh.

Ozpin sipped his hot coco and wished he could go back to the pond of ducks, but maybe with less honking.

The agency office was a three storey building. Receptionist and audition slash practice halls on first floor. Finance, marketing and admin on the second, studio on the third. The little meeting room was on the second. The office was supposed to open at 10, but several people were already arriving to start the day. Glynda told Velvet to wait downstairs. They headed straight for the meeting room. James was already there, holding the door for them.

Ozpin and Glynda sat down on one of the chairs. Glynda immediately had her notes and tablet opened. James stood before them. His tie loosened, sleeves rolled. His dark hair looked striking upon the surface of his skin. Ozpin noticed his stubble had grew thicker and Glynda often commented the whole creepy mail thing added more streaks of white on the sides of his hair as of late. It didn’t made him look any less dashing. James always looked good in any shirt-tie combination — to be fair, being tall and robust makes him looks good in anything. Dark shirt over saturated tie seemed to be best on him. Today was a navy shirt and a red tie with gold accent, complimented with a pair of black pants. The silver buckle of his belt and a matching watch added a very nice touch.

Among all the commotion that was going on around Ozpin, James was always a refreshing sight to be seen.

And it appeared Glynda knew Ozpin was snacking on the sight and gave him a stare that was as threatening as the mails. Ozpin adjusted his posture and sat up straight, pretending it didn’t happen.

“Ozpin, thank you for coming here in such short notice,” James opened the meeting. “So, due to what happened last night, I think it’s time that you consider a private security detail as necessary.”

Before Ozpin could say anything, James continued, “This time I wouldn’t take no for an answer and no, your chauffeur may know martial arts but he is young and he is considerably new. And I know you have Glynda—“ the corner of his mouth formed a little sly smile that made Glynda rolled her eyes.

And then he continued, “—but we need a professional. Someone who has experience in handling situations like this.”

Ozpin breathed a “fine” and leaned back to the chair as a gesture of compliance. He really had no other choice.

“I have been in contact to several people ever since the magazine clippings and the— well, used things,” James finally sat down, grabbing his leather bag to pull out some folders, “I found out one of my old platoon mates in the marines has been doing security service to high profile individuals. I think being one of the security detail on Obama’s 2012 campaign should give you credibility. High profile celebrities include Mariah Carey, Gordon Ramsay, was one of the bodyguards during Queen and Adam Lambert’s 2016 tour and oh, the new Power Rangers’ movie cast."

From Obama to Power Rangers. What a variety of clients. Ozpin in disbelief how this person wasn’t a made up guy.

“I think he is the most eligible among the other candidates. I will give him a call if you agree on it. But of course, you are free to look all the profiles of all people who are up for the service.”

James handed the folder to Ozpin. Data of his soon to be bodyguard were there. He briefly scanned the candidates. Glynda leaned over to his side to take a peek for herself. James was right, among all the others, the paper with the name “Qrow Branwen” was the most eligible.

Ozpin looked at the photo attached. Typical man who would do such work. Stringy dark brown hair. Chainstrap. Tough look.

“He was with you in the marines?”

“Yeah, I found out about this from an old platoon mate of ours I occasionally have drink with. I told him my client might need a private bodyguard and he told me about Qrow. He then gave me the contact. Qrow was… Well, let’s just say we didn’t really get along back then but once I told him he’d be working in this city, he somehow sounded enthusiastic about it and told me to call back if there’s any updates or agreement. He even sent me his resume. That’s how I got it.”

“That sounds suspicious. You sure this person won’t be the one who kills Ozpin instead?” Glynda held none of her opinions back. Ozpin shouted her name, he couldn’t lie he was slightly terrified.

“What? I’m stating possibilities,” she shrugged as if it was nothing.

James sighed and put a hand on his forehead, “He won’t. Hopefully. From what I remember, Qrow was difficult as a subordinate but he performed duties well. If Obama— or Gordon Ramsay trusted him, I guess we could too.”

“Hopefully" wasn’t enough. Ozpin had to spend days and allow this stranger on his space. What if Glynda’s right? Or what if he really is _that_ difficult subordinate? What kind of difficult? At this point, maybe Ozpin was willing to spend any amount of money for his security but he didn’t know how to make sure this was worth it.

The thought of somebody out there really hurt themselves and sent a body part his way made Ozpin rethink for a while.

Silence in the room. Ozpin looked at the resume on the folder once more. He did feel this man by the name of Qrow Branwen sounded the best. He closed his eyes, praying this would be the right choice.

“Okay. Call Mr. Branwen. Tell him I would like to hold an interview with him myself. Glynda, do we have anything tomorrow?”

Glynda checked her tablet, “None. You’re free.”

“Alright,” Ozpin nodded, “Here, 10 AM. I want you both to be with me for the interview as well.”

“Of course.” James nodded.

It was for the best.

As the three walked out of the meeting room, James turned back to Ozpin, hand on his shoulder.

“Ozpin, I know I got you in to this and I’m willing to take full responsibility for that. If this guy’s messing with you, I’ll take it to law.”

Ozpin returned his sympathy, “I believe you would, James.”

“Good,” he nodded, “I need to get back to the firm to sort out Senator B’s little act with your music. Hopefully it will be done by the end of this week. I have a class to lecture at 7 later so Glynda, see you at home,” his face much more relaxed, a smile was visible.

“Uhuh,” Glynda only nodded. She returned him a little smile before the elevator door closes and took James downstairs.

Ozpin sometimes marvelled at James and Glynda's ability to remain professional during work hours. It had been almost five years of them together. James might slip a flirt or two if Ozpin is around but other than that, the two never really show much affection in front of anyone at work. Maybe them getting it on once in the storage room might have something to do with it. One intern caught them, apparently traumatized. The agency offered them a full time position but they never returned.

Glynda was particularly _coldly_ professional. She wasn’t the type of person who invests in romance to begin with. All of her past relationships were nothing but meaningless one night stands or long gaps where she just didn’t have any at all, rejecting every chances that came her way. Waste of time, she told once. She never spoke highly of her sexual encounters either. Most of the time she summarised it with “I can fuck myself better”. But after meeting James, she gradually changed. Something about him caught her attention despite her initial complaints about him being “that single and successful lawyer type”. Not denying how striking he looks but James really was a good man. He gave her something she never knew she needed and it was good enough to melt her heart. It bloomed in hush, all behind the curtain. Ozpin knew of course but with the way they carry themselves at work, nobody did — not until that incident in the storage room.

Years knowing her, Ozpin never saw Glynda this content in a relationship, with herself even. A Glynda Goodwitch settling down, buying an apartment and adopting a cat with a man. Everyone who knew her wouldn’t have that cross their mind. He was happy for her. He secretly took pride with it — he might have done some matchmaking tactics to get them know each other better during their early encounters.

Ozpin often wondered if a person like Glynda may have a chance, could a person like him have a chance too. Fame seemed to detach him further from the idea of a relationship, especially now with the terrors and rumours. Having people around him getting affected by the threats alone disturbed him. He couldn’t imagine if it happened to a person he’s intimate with. Not to mention the kind of rumours would be born.

Therefore, he decided to never think about it.

 

 

* * *

 

 

The limo ride to the performance venue dawned in a much more uplifting atmosphere as Yatsuhashi and Velvet talk about their favorite vegan place.

“Yeah, the orange juice there is the freshest. And the cookies? Wow, the cookies!” Yatsuhashi commented. Velvet suggested if they should go there with Ozpin and Glynda too.

“Mr. Ironwood can come too!” Velvet added, her eyes to Glynda, but Glynda’s stayed at the tablet and only gave an “uhuh” and a nod.

Bright conversation about good vegan places stopped when Glynda muttered an “oh no”. Her face and cadence were flat but Ozpin knew it was a bad “oh no”.

“What is it?” Ozpin asked.

“Never knew your stage wife is a Chairman card holder. That or they just invited her. Point is, Salem will be at our event.” Glynda showed Ozpin the e-mail on her tablet.

Ozpin leaned, pushed himself backwards, wishing the car seat to swallow him. Ozpin was tired of their little beef which Salem thinks as a grand one worth of everyone’s attention. They weren’t young popstars like Katy or Taylor. Such drama wasn’t necessary even for the sake of self promotion.

Ozpin would rather bury himself alive than admit he and Salem used to briefly date at performing arts school. It didn’t last long since they separated to different cities to attend different workshops as requirement for final year. Fate brought them together again on a production of Puccini’s "La Boheme" — their first main role gig as professionals, “conveniently” as Rodolfo and Mimi. Their performance were deemed spectacular, rich in emotion and chemistry. Subsequently, they were always casted as lovers, always maintaining that authenticity of romance on stage. They initially tried to rekindle the old flame, but the stage changes people and it was true. They were both young and ambitious. It was acclamation above all else. College sweethearts turned to rivalry and the rivalry only escalated as they need to out-best everyone, but mainly each other.

Similarity breeds contempt, perhaps.

Right now, Ozpin believed Salem was in a hunt for more bad publicity on his side, especially with him currently broadening his audience and going “pop opera”. What Ozpin was doing always gave a bad name for opera in general. He gained criticism such as “shallow” and “nothing but a solo Il Divo” and he was sure Salem was living on that.

“She did have a crush on you, didn’t she?” Glynda commented. 

Crush? It was worse. _They dated_. Ozpin turned his face away, looking out the car window in attempt to avoid the topic.

“I think she still does, albeit driven by disdain,” she continued, nonchalantly.

“Glynda, please. There is no such thing."

Ozpin thought how ridiculous that would be but then — _disdain_. That word seemed to bother him.

_Would Salem do something that far?_

Ozpin shook the thought off. He didn’t want to think about it, not right now.

He was performing at one of the most prestigious hotel in the city. It was a private dining event after all. Time flew after what it seemed like a few handshakes and small talks. It was almost 7 and other guests were coming. Ozpin’s eyes scanned every single person in the crowd — and there she was. Salem was always noticeable from her unusual updo. Her blonde hair only turned greyer — whiter — over the years. Her beauty preserved somehow, as much as Ozpin hated to admit. It was unfair for someone who was so petty and vile inside encased in revered exterior and able to act like a pure hearted lover. Salem walked across the hall, looking for her reserved table. Beside her was Cinder Fall, her apprentice. 21 years of age but remarkably talented. Her range went by far as a lyrical soprano but she had a very strong mezzo belt. Recently, the press praised her debut performance as lead on Bizet’s “Carmen”, but Ozpin knew Salem must had pulled some strings.

Cinder's face was as smug as her mentor’s. Her mannerisms were becoming much more Salem-like every time Ozpin sees her up close. He and Glynda often joke about how Salem is probably Cinder’s Mommy by all the wrong means.

Shoot, she noticed him. Ozpin quickly turned around in attempt to completely avoid her which he clearly failed.

“Oh, Ozpin, what a surprise!” Her voice grand, arms opened wide. Her gaze then directed at Glynda, “Oh, hi, Glynda! Long time no see! It looks like you’ve gained some weight. Enjoying domestic life I suppose.”

Salem, of course, smiling, knowing full well what she just said. Glynda squinted at her in response, probably fantasizing about smashing her sharp heels to Salem’s head.

“I’m performing tonight. I thought you knew that,” Ozpin cut before Glynda has the chance to turn the conversation into a bloodbath.

Salem laughed so satisfyingly and it was annoying as hell, “Of course I know, darling. That’s why I’m here. I brought Cinder too. Maybe she could learn one or two things she shouldn’t do from you.”

Cinder’s face looking smuggier, if that’s a word.

“Oh well, suit yourself, Salem. I suppose there’s a reason why they invite me here to perform, so I don’t think your disagreement would change that fact.”

Time to walk further and further away from Salem. He needed to standby backstage anyway. Glynda walked an inch behind him and amusedly chuckled, “Haha, nice one.”

The hall was finally filled with all the invited guests. As soon as the host introduced him, Ozpin stepped out to the stage. A little opening speech and he began his first song. He was set to perform four. Just the ones from his latest album to make things easier. Besides, it was probably the ones the guests wanted to hear.

Ozpin noticed a lady popped her body out of her chair with a large smile. A seemingly old married couple in their 50s looked to each other, held hands and enjoyed the song as they leaned to each other. A man on the further left table took a dining cloth to wipe his eye. Maybe he got a little teary. This exact moment was the reason Ozpin disregarded the critics who labelled him bringing opera to the lows. He loved what he does and he knew he’s very good at it.

But how can good last?

A loud, explosion sound was heard to the ballroom. Guests muttering. Ozpin froze in stage, the band stopped playing. He could feel cold sweat started to trickle down. His legs were shaking. His surrounding turned awry, lights flashing in white and blue. The ballroom door opened. Security and hotel staff swarmed the place. Ozpin couldn’t really hear what they were saying, to him it was nothing but buzz and yell and soon after that, the guests started to ran out of the door.

Not until he heard Glynda’s third yell of his name he realized what just happened.

“Ozpin, get back here!”

He didn’t think a single thing anymore but ran backstage.

 

* * *

Ozpin sat on a block at the hotel yard, wrapped in a towel a medic staff gave to him. Sirens and loud chatter sounded restless. Police officers asked him a lot of things he couldn’t really recall but Glynda was there to help him clarify things.

One guest was injured on the explosion which came from the men’s restroom. Ozpin witnessed medics stitching his wound and every groan of pain that came out of his mouth struck badly into Ozpin’s ears and chest. He was brought together by the medics with another man on the stretcher, but Ozpin hadn’t seen the other man or the medic staff that were with him.

His worst thought came true as a police officer approached him.

“Mr. Ozpin, I’m very sorry this tragedy had to happen in one of your performances…” The officer looked hesitated. It took her a brief pause before she could continue, "There was a casualty from one of the guests. We’re contacting his family now...”

Ozpin couldn’t hear the rest what the officer told him. The sound of explosion rang loudly again in his head. _Casualty_. _Contacting his family_.

There was a certain feeling that took him over completely. Fear? Anger? Guilt.

It was too much. Not strangers too.

In a distance, Ozpin saw Glynda standing talking over the phone. Beside her was Velvet, looking paler than last night. Glynda’s loud voice brought him back to reality.

“For the last time, James, I’m fine! Ozpin... he’s... I will talk to him about it."

Ozpin looked to Glynda who was walking towards his direction. She then sat beside him. She looked genuinely worried and Glynda showing emotions meant something was heavily serious.

“Ozpin, James and I have talked. Stay with us for the night. We’ll prepare you a space. I know this is hard on you...”

But Glynda could tell by Ozpin’s look alone he still couldn’t leave his house despite everything that had happened.

“Just for a night. Until everything is settled,” She convinced him once more.

But when is everything settled? Ozpin thought it won’t be at all for the time being.

Besides, “What if I hurt you and James instead?”

The guilt slid in deeper to his state of mind and he couldn’t afford anything to happen anymore that night.

The drive back home was silent once more. As Yatsuhashi dropped Glynda in and Velvet at the office, she gave him another offer. Ozpin still refused. Yatsuhashi made a mark, “Ms. Goodwitch might be right that it’s reasonable for you stay with her and Mr. Ironwood for the night.”

Ozpin didn’t reply. The young man even offered to stay with him as well. 

“No, Yatsuhashi. You’re young. Have a life.”

“Mr. Ozpin—“

“I’m fine,” that was what he always said to people and to himself.

Making sure doors are locked was routine but checking whether or not it’s locked again and again became a ritual every time Ozpin was home. He might be alone and physically vulnerable, the anxiety for a possible danger was constantly with him, but at least it was only a possible danger to him alone.

**Author's Note:**

> Finally, my first multi-chapter fic. RWBY did help me to write more again. Wrote this during a very stressful time when I tried to finish my Master's thesis. Didn't know what made me but I thought it would be fun to make a modern Earth AU where Qrow becomes Ozpin's bodyguard and have some cliched but much needed bodyguard romance, Whitney Houston style, but with happy ending.
> 
> To be honest, I don't have much knowledge about performing arts in a very specific way. I went for Arts Management for my BA which required me to study history, social significance, and aesthetic concepts of performing arts, but I have no knowledge of what it's like to have your life pursue performing arts like going to school and work on stage professionally. I only learned by observing and liaising with the performing arts students at college, becoming stage crew several occasions, net research and theories I learned in class. So any theatre kid or geek, I welcome you to give me advice or perhaps suggestion!


End file.
